


Heartfelt

by Candentia



Series: Eorzean Holidays [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candentia/pseuds/Candentia
Summary: You spend the Starlight Celebration with someone you love, don't you?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lord help me and my love for Aymeric. Also the WoL speaks. I know. Should probably put in a warning for that alone. I offer no excuses. [Not set in the same universe as Fortunate. Probably.]

“So I appeared as an agent of the Saint of Nymeia in your slumber to deliver a gift?” Aymeric had been so exhausted that it had been a struggle to keep his head up, never mind receive a late visitor, right up until said visitor’s identity had become known to him. Now despite a tiredness that clawed deep at his bones, a small smile played on his face, undaunted by the late hour and heavy frost on the window. He threaded his fingers together, invested in seeing if his dear friend was capable of blushing any harder.

 

She was pointedly focusing on his desk piled with documents and form, dusted snow still clinging to her hair like starlight caught Nymeia’s spindle from having been out in the storm. “You needn’t hold back your laughter, I know how absurd it sounds.”

 

“On the contrary, or have you forgotten that Ishgard is where this custom was born?” He rested his elbows on the desk. “Granted, nary a sign of it would you see on the streets this year, alas, but it is my hope that we may be able to reclaim and rejoin in the celebrations come next Starlight Eve. I assure you, my dear friend, that Ishgard is resplendent once she shows off her celebratory spirits.”

 

They were quiet for a moment, letting the crackling logs fill the pause. Nidhogg’s brutality still fresh on the Steps of Faith, rubble yet to be cleared away. It was obvious to him that she was pondering something. Regretting something, perhaps. His  _ dear _ friend. Always carrying the world on her shoulders and little to show for it except more expectations from those that would see less of the woman and more of the warrior with every improbable, nay,  _ impossible _ feat she accomplished. 

 

“Perhaps you should delay departure.” He observed. “The sky is no friend to fliers tonight and while I thank you for delivering this missive when surely you had other things to do with your time, I would rather sleep in my bed without the nagging concern that you might be freezing to death.” 

 

“You may be right. But I came for another reason as well.” She reached down into the satchel she’d carried into his office which had apparently not only carried the missive but something else as well. Over the length of the desk Aymeric could not see what it was.

 

“You did not write a letter to the Saint, I know,” She laid down a package wrapped in plain brown paper before him. “And it isn’t a wish I can grant nor is it one you would accept even if I had the the right to but this, perhaps, will make up for it?”

 

Aymeric inspected the package. Mildly bewildered and definitely curious. “Are you perchance playing the role of one of the Little Helpers this night?”

 

In answer she shrugged and he was too polite to ask if she was also wearing any of the traditional garb under that great coat of hers. The package waited. Aymeric was oddly touched; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a Starlight gift. Likely not since childhood, before joining the Order.

 

Upon picking the package up he noticed the weight was uniform and flat, the telltale signs of a book of some sort. Aymeric carefully slit one end with a letter knife and reached in. His fingertips brushed against leather. He raised an eyebrow at her and let two books fall gently into his waiting palm. A bit of raw silk ribbon kept them bound.

 

“Read.” She suggested, expression and tone carefully modulated into a cipher. Dutifully he untied the ribbon and sorted through the pages of what rapidly became apparent was a record keep of sorts. Journals. Worn thin in areas with use and what he could only surmise were the effects of traveling with their owner through raging seas, snowy peaks and fiery underground caverns. There were even soot marks on certain pages.

 

The tip of his finger ran along the inside seam of a page that began, simply,  _ today I buried the Scions _ . There were dried tear marks. He closed the book, humbled. “I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”

 

She pulled out another two similar books from the bag; held them up. “Because those are full and I need to start a new one. And when that one is filled I will bring it to you. The one after that as well. As many as it takes. But this one?” She placed one of the new books down on the table. “When you and I go adventuring one day again, this is the one we will fill, together. Until then I hope my stories will be enough.”

 

He didn’t know what to say. He finally cracked a smile that felt strange even to him, made of half sorrow and half hope, thumb stroking the worn leather that chronicled the birth of a legend in the flesh. They were battered and worn, physical proof of the long journey they had been through. The third, in contrast, was smooth and brightly colored blue, freshly crafted by a talented leatherworker and bookbinder. It spoke of promise, of a blank canvas to be filled. 

 

“Until that day comes, then. May your adventures always see you return safely to Ishgard.” Aymeric meant that with his whole heart. And he suspected she knew that as well.


End file.
